KKen! : A Fleeting Moment
by Lena Ban Obsidian
Summary: Rating for major Hintage. Omi and Yohji think Ken and Aya may not be getting along too well...but what do they know?


Fleeting Moment   
Lena

* * *

Omi sat quietly before him, reading a romance novel half heartedly. He doubted anyone else would have noticed the faint shimmering of aqualine eyes as the younger man stifled a sigh. 

Things were slow. 

"Oi, Bisho-nen," he teased softly, lifting a white flower from an otherwise wildly colorful bouquet. "You're making me lovesick with that book in your face." Omi glared self-righteously at him and harrumphed, turning back to his book with false avidity. The fall of soft brown hair over severe sapphire eyes duly ruined the attempt at being irate. He found that he smiled. "Tell me what's the matter." 

Startled, the boy shot him a furtive, worried glance, shook his head minutely, and buried his burning red face in the pages of his book for cover. Yohji politely did not laugh, though he couldn't help a slow, toothy grin at the antics. "It's not 'mportant," the boy mumbled quietly, his voice trapped in the confines of the pages. "And b'sdies...you'd laugh at me." 

Yohji laughed. 

Growling, Omi gamely tossed his book at the other florist, missing the intended target- his mouth- and landing instead against his chest. The book slid pitifully into a messy heap of poorly written prose in Yohji's lap. "See? I can't talk to you, all you do is make fun of me." 

Thinking back on the night before, Yohji was tempted to claim that in public he was totally justified. The little blonde was particularly possessive, if not exactly dominating, behind closed doors... 

A strangled, soft little noise from the back rooms gained their attention. Both darted nervous glances all around for trouble, and focused on trying to hear the sound again. 

It came back, slightly louder, a feather-soft sound like kittens mewling for their supper. 

Silence reigned for two or three minutes, and Yohji nervously started the conversation up again. Maybe Aya and Ken were fighting? They seemed to do it more and more often these days, and Aya always ended up leaving in a disgraceful huff. Ken had been glaring daggers at any who dared speak with him. Perhaps...the relationship was taking a turn for the worse? "Anyway, Omi. I'm serious, I really want to know what's bothering you." 

Pouting, the blonde turned his gaze out the front window. "Why?" 

"Because you've been angsting about something for days now, and you're getting a little touchy." A baleful glare. "That's exactly what I mean. What's wrong, Omi?" Pensive, he leaned forward, taking the boy's nearest hand in his own and forcing his gaze to lock with Omi's. "Did I do something to hurt you?" 

Bewildered confusion was the first reaction he got, and then a short fit of laughter. "Not you, Yohji-kun. Not anyone. Ken and Aya are just setting my teeth on edge, is all." They shared a mutual wry smile and, in the next moment, blanched in equal shock. 

"...please, K-Ken...Oh...please..." Yohji stood from his chair, prepared to break up the fight of the century. Omi trembled where he sat, wondering what could have possessed Ken to attack his teammate... 

"What did I tell you to say?" 

Yohji frowned, taking a step towards the back room. Ken didn't sound angry; in fact, judging from the tone- 

"Master...please..." Omi gaped. Yohji blushed. "Un-unh...K...Ken..." They shared a look of pure embarassment. "_Ken_..." The taller florist paced a moment indecisively, and sat back down. Recovering his book, the younger of the two tried with all his might to read and ignore what was going on. "K-Ken...Please..._God,_ Ken, please..." Omi bit his lip. Heaving a sigh, Yohji chewed at his fingernails, distracted. "Ken...oh...UNHH...K-**KEN**!" 

Omi rubbed his knees together, whimpering slightly. Yohji considered doing the same. 

Ken walked purposefully out into the room, dressed in smooth green silks and a wicked smile. He smelled singularly of sex, and his eyes held the evil look of one who has just begun. Nodding pleasantly to both of his comrades, he proceeded to walk gleefully out of the doors, making certain that they saw which direction he turned. 

They stared. 

A pounding of heavy footsteps warned them of Aya's coming; he staggered into the wide, bay-windowed room, clad in a pair of painfully tight black pants and a loose white shirt obviously grabbed up in the frenzy of trying to keep sight of Ken. His eyes were liberally coated with mascara, his lips dyed a deep hue of red. Bedraggled, dazed, and pleasantly lost in afterglow, he very plainly was not particularly aware of the spiked leather collar on his throat or the silver lead chain that trailed down his body to just above his bare ankles. 

Breathless, he deamanded of them, "Where did he-?" Yohji jabbed a finger in the direction Aya's wayward master had gone. Ignorant of his naked feet and disheveled image, the red-haired boy ran from the store. 

For several long moments, there was complete silence between them. 

"Omi?" 

"Yes, Yohji-kun?" 

"Can we...see each other in the back room?" 

"Yes, Yohji-kun." 

END


End file.
